


The Love Witch

by pearypie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: (it's a silly fic so don't take it too seriously), 1960s, Family Fluff, Grell and William are basically Lizzy's adopted parents, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, and Lizzy's a love witch living in San Francisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 21:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearypie/pseuds/pearypie
Summary: AU: Psychedelic 60s. Modern witch Lizzy Midford uses her powers of Aphrodite to help people find and fall in love. Day drinking and misunderstandings ensue. (Sebastian/Ciel & William/Grell)





	The Love Witch

_“Now remember Lizzy dearest, love cannot be contrived or forced. It must be natural and innate. Your powers can help cultivate the love that is already there but not even magic is able to create love out of nothing.” Grell Sutcliff, her mentor, mother figure, and dearest friend, informed her gently, placing one perfectly manicured hand atop Lizzy’s golden head. “Remember this, and you, my wonderful, precious Elizabeth, will be peachy keen perfect.” Grell flashed her a razor-toothed smile._

_Lizzy beamed—bright, eager, and full of hope. “I do so promise!” Lizzy clasped hands with her mentor and felt just a bit teary eyed. She’d studied under Grell Sutcliff for over three years now, living with the rambunctious redhead and her husband of some twenty or so years. (Youth serums, according to Mrs. Spears, worked absolute wonders.)_

_“Now don’t you start crying on me, Elizabeth Cordelia!” Grell warned, sounding both choked up and severe. “I’ll not have you ruining that glorious cat-eye I spent half an hour slaving over!”_

_Lizzy sniffled, just a little. “Don’t you worry Auntie Grell. I won’t start bawling my eyes out until the afterparty. Or at least I think I won’t.” She’d always been a bit of a weepy drunk._

_“Good.” Grell smoothed a lock of Lizzy’s hair, her sugary sweet smile back in place. “And what a party it’ll be! The finest one I’ve thrown in_ **_years_ ** _! Oh goodness, Will’ll be so pleased! He loves those little éclair hors d’oeuvres I make even though he’ll never admit_ **_that_ ** _to a single soul. And the guests! Oh, of course the guests! They won’t be able to take their eyes off of you, my little Sharon Tate darling! Just think, after tonight you’ll be a real, certified bona fide love witch!”_

 

* * *

 

**1963**

It’d been almost two years since Lizzy’s ceremonial swearing into the Coven of Aphrodite and while she’d been delighted to receive her own cauldron and business card, her worry didn’t dissipate until Auntie Grell insisted that Lizzy room with her and Will until she completed her residency program. While money wasn’t really a concern (thank you Great Grandpa Midford and the giant bank you helped create), Lizzy didn’t like living alone. She thrived off of social interaction and the laughter of others; it’s probably why she and Auntie Grell got along so well. (And why Uncle William could only endure her company in small doses.)

The three of them lived in a nicely situated and colorfully painted Victorian townhouse in Haight-Ashbury with a glorious view of the Golden Gate Bridge. The house itself had been built in 1901 on top of a rather steep hill so every morning, Lizzy could feel the warmth of the rising sun kissing her face and the swift, fresh breeze of the San Francisco Bay.

Her mother nearly had a stroke when she learned where Lizzy was moving to after graduating from Queen Victoria’s School for Girls (class of ’58!) but father and Edward had convinced Francis Claudia Midford, indomitable marchioness of all things proper, that it was only right for their bright-eyed little girl to experience the world before confining herself to marriage. (Or whatever societal aspirations were expected of the daughter of a wellborn English multimillionaire.)

Now it was 1963, and August had just begun. Lizzy was halfway through her residency program but, to her horror and distress, she had not united a single couple in love and/or matrimony and the thought of malpractice—of being a failed witch—sent tremors of fear roiling down Lizzy’s spine. She didn’t want to disappoint Auntie Grell, the woman who’d put so much faith in her and who’d willingly stayed up with Lizzy, night after night, helping her perfect potions and elixirs just in case the Grand High Witch dropped by for inspection. She also couldn’t bear disappointing good Uncle William who, although prim and proper and prone to lectures, would willingly drive two and a half hours to pick up her favorite cake and potion ingredients before giving them to her with a stoic, “Here, child.” Lizzy loved her little surrogate family—her mentor and friends—and she absolutely refused to be known as the witch who _almost_ united a couple. 

No, she was going to succeed! She was going to be a great witch—she was going to help _tons_ of people fall in love and dammit, she knew exactly who she was going to start with.

Her sullen, mopey but entirely lovable cousin—Ciel Phantomhive.

 

“I’m not going in there and that’s final.” Ciel crossed his arms, expression sour. “Let’s go somewhere else Lizzy— _anywhere_ else.” He paused. “Maybe the ice cream parlor.”

“No. We’re meeting my friends here and you’re going to have fun doing it.”

Ciel scoffed. “I thought the _guest_ made all the decisions.” 

“You do that all the time anyway.” Lizzy returned dismissively. “Going on vacation is supposed to be _fun_ and _interesting._ If we had it your way we’d both be lying on hospital beds, virtually comatose from sugar.” 

“And what’s wrong with that?” Ciel countered childishly, feeling all too helpless at the hands of his brazen, vivacious cousin. He _knew_ visiting San Francisco on his own was a bad idea. Lizzy was his favorite cousin and god help him, he indulged her far too often.

As if reading his thoughts, Lizzy skipped over to Ciel and gave him a sweet, cheery smile—the same one she used to con Uncle William into letting her stay up past 1 AM. “Come now, Ciel—do you really think I’d take you anywhere bad? This place just looks…vulgar from the outside” (she almost said intimidating but then remembered what a Napoleon complex her cousin had. Honestly. _Men_ ) “but you’ll like the people here. Sully is sweet and wonderful—“

“She’s crude and says the most obscene things.”

“—and Ronald, he’s the funny gentleman with tangerine hair and—“

“The loud mouth. He doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“—but I think you’ll like Alois—“

“That temperamental blonde haired brat?”

“—and will you please stop interrupting me and degrading all my friends!”

“Give me one I might like and then maybe I’ll consider it.” Ciel replied breezily.

Lizzy took that as a challenge.

“Fine. Come inside and meet the barman.”

Ciel rolled his eyes. “I suppose drinking will be the only way to get through this afternoon.”

Lizzy hid a smile.

 

“What can I get you, my lady?” Sebastian Michaelis, 26 years old and charlatan extraordinaire, inquired. He had a clean white towel thrown over his shoulder and polite smile in place.

It wasn’t quite 5 o’clock so the bar was relatively empty. Sully and Ronald weren’t here yet but Alois, who was too busy flirting with someone tall, dark and handsome, gave them a wave before returning to his gentleman _du jour._  

“Seb, I want you to meet my cousin, Ciel.” Lizzy declared, half dragging the cobalt haired young man to the bar stool next to her.

“Get off me, Liz.” Ciel snarled, yanking his arm away before turning to glare at Sebastian sullenly. “And a Brandy Alexander. Extra cream.”

Sebastian suppressed a smile. “Ladies first.” His voice was caramel smooth. “My lady?”

If he was any less well mannered, Ciel’s jaw would’ve dropped open in shock.

No one ignored a Phantomhive. _No one._

“A Tom Collins, please.” She smiled sweetly, feeling a crackle of excitement shoot up her spine. If everything worked out well, she could have her residency finished by the end of August!

“As you wish.” Sebastian gave a grand, sweeping bow that would’ve looked silly coming from anyone else except, when he did it, Ciel was reminded of grand dukes and forgotten elegance. 

It was annoying.

“I hadn’t realized Californians were so poorly mannered.” He drawled, just loud enough for the damned barman to hear.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Ciel.” Elizabeth reprimanded, though her tone was more joyous than firm. “And anyway, that doesn’t apply here. Sebastian isn’t from California.”

“The name connotes French elegance though the man who bears it is the antithesis of that description.” Her cousin retorted dryly, cheek pressed against the palm of his hand. 

“I confess great regret in having upset you, but I will not apologize for following the rules of etiquette.” Sebastian said smoothly, almost materializing from the shadows as he placed a tall glass of gin, soda, and lemon juice in front of Elizabeth.

Ciel’s expression remained effortlessly cool. “And the respect owed to a gentleman? What of that?”

“Show me a gentleman and I shall give him a proper welcome.” The Frenchman’s eyes—dark mahogany with flecks of carnelian amber—glittered with amusement.

“I should have expected that.” Ciel shot back, looking haughty as ever. “Seeing as how you’ve lived in disgrace for so long. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected you to recognize the nobility of my bearing.”

“You’ve asked me to accommodate a gentleman, not a nobleman.”

Ciel raised a brow. “You see a difference?”

“The nobility command disdain. A gentleman receives respect.”

“Yet how do you separate a nobleman from a gentleman when they are the same person?”

“There are qualities I choose to acknowledge, my lord, and others I disregard.” He gave a sly half-smile—one that was both mocking and undeniably attractive. “We all have vices—some uglier than others and some, sinfully appealing.”

He and Ciel locked eyes—burning sapphire and mischievous ruby—and Lizzy could’ve sworn she saw allegorical sparks and fireworks sizzling between them. Huh. Maybe she didn’t need to use a love potion or anything—

“Get me that Brandy Alexander.” Ciel commanded. “Extra cream.”

Sebastian bowed. “Yes, _my lord._ ”

He disappeared and Ciel turned back to Lizzy. “He’s impertinent and disrespectful. I don’t like him.”

Lizzy frowned. “But—“

“Once I finish this drink, we’re leaving.”

“Ciel—“

“And you’re going to take me to the San Francisco Opera to make up for this dreadful afternoon.”

“I thought—“

“You thought what?”

She opened her mouth to refute his claim but shut up after she caught Sebastian returning with Ciel’s drink.

With forced casualness, Lizzy allowed a small smile to appear on her painted lips “Nothing.” She shrugged innocently. “Nothing at all.”

 

* * *

 

**Two days later**

“Fancy seeing you again, my lord.” Sebastian Michaelis was polishing shot glasses and wearing the most amused little half-smile—as if Ciel had just said something incredibly clever and witty.

“Well I wouldn’t be here had gravity not interfered.” Thankfully the bar was relatively empty at eleven AM. “Do you have my keys? I must’ve dropped them here somewhere.”

“It’s been two days. What makes you so sure they haven’t been tossed in the dumpster?”

“My keys are attached to a $200 keychain.” Ciel returned snottily. “If your janitor had even a modicum of intelligence—or at the very least, common sense—he’d keep the chain and pawn it at the local shop.”

“So why come here?” Sebastian moved onto his next glass, eyes still fixed on Ciel.

 _It’s almost unnerving,_ Ciel thought with a vague hint of interest, _how disruptive his gaze can be._

Almost as quickly as that thought appeared, Ciel forced it out of his mind. “I don’t intend to traverse every pawn shop in the Bay Area.” He moved to sit on the barstool closest to where Sebastian was. “Besides, Lizzy’s meeting me here in five minute so I thought I’d just ask before she arrived.”

“Day drinking again?”

Ciel scowled. “No. We’re going to the cinema.”

 _He has a pretty mouth,_ Sebastian mused, _even with all his scowling and bitter complaints._

“What film do you intend to see?”

“Why are you interrogating me?”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort.” Sebastian smiled. “Just passing time until your cousin arrives.”

“What, two days ago she’s _your lady_ and now she’s just my cousin?”

“My, my, aren’t we hostile.”

A faint pink blush appeared on the younger man’s cheeks. “I’m not. It was just a statement.”

 _A white rose then, with a hint of amaranth._ Sebastian chucked, putting away the last of the shot glasses. “I’d say your company is rather enjoyable but since you would neither accept nor believe that compliment, I will only confess that you have a most becoming blush.”

There’s a slight sting to his words but Ciel shrugged it off. Why did he care what some dilettante bartender had to say?

He changed the subject. “We’re going to see Cleopatra. Elizabeth Taylor is Lizzy’s favorite actress.”

“Really? I thought she would’ve preferred Sharon Tate.”

A vicious smile appeared on Ciel’s pale pink lips. “How predictable.” He drawled. “And here I thought you’d be interesting—or, at the very least, given me a different answer.”

The second he says that, the air around them stills.

It’s as if those words were the trigger Sebastian had been waiting for.

He pounced—or at least Ciel thinks he does. One minute he’s putting away shot glasses and the next, he’s looming over Ciel like some raven-haired shadow, ready to consume him whole. “Where have all your pretty manners gone?” Sebastian purred, a hint of ruby in his dark cherrywood eyes. “You’re behaving more like a spoiled brat than an east coast professional.”

“I’m adapting to the environment around me.” He shot back, twice as sharp. “It’s hardly my fault San Francisco is filled with heathens and uncultured swine.” 

“Isn’t your tongue a thing to behold.”

Ciel laughed, harsh and cruel. “You’ve hardly seen the full extent of what I can do.”

“With that mouth, I’m inclined to believe your statement.”

The younger man rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I—“

“Come with me.” Sebastian interrupted, leaning in closer. He’s tall—maybe 6’2 or 6’3—and Ciel’s was sitting on a barstool, head titled up and eyes wide. For a strange, terrible moment, Ciel thought Sebastian was going to kiss him full on the mouth. That surprise shifts to disappointment (and then anger) when he catches himself wondering just how Sebastian’s lips might feel pressed against his own.

With expert determination, Ciel shook himself from his revere. “Where’re we going?” He demanded, getting onto his feet.

Sebastian shot him a smile, canines showing and brilliant teeth gleaming.

“ _Paradisum_.”

 

Lizzy arrives at the bar a full twenty minutes late on purpose. She wanted to give time for Ciel and Sebastian to talk—maybe even flirt! Even though, the blonde admits, Ciel’s version of flirting can be quite cruel…but her love potion should’ve remedied _some_ of that. Thinking back to how she’d deftly slipped a few drops of Cytherea No. 10 into Ciel’s drink made her smile with bright, eager joy. Despite her cousin’s prickly behavior and ice cold demeanor, Lizzy knew he was capable of giving and receiving love—he just needed the right partner for the task.

She entered the Ravenwing bar with a new spring in her step, wide jade eyes scanning the premises for her cobalt haired cousin and the tall, enigmatic barman. Oddly enough, the place was empty and Sebastian was nowhere in sight; most of his staff were serving the other guests and—

“Ciel?” Lizzy breezed past the main area of the nightclub-slash-bar to go into the backroom where Sebastian kept most of the champagne and fine liqueurs. “Ciel? Seb? Are you two in here?” She climbed a small, compact staircase and nearly hit her head on a shortened piece of wall in front of her. “I keep telling him to renovate but does he listen to me? No.” Lizzy muttered under her breath as she crouched down, slipping through a petite-sized corridor before tripping over a piece of fabric and nearly falling face first into the backroom door.

Faint rustling noises were heard, sending a shiver of worry down Lizzy’s spine. “Hey, Ciel? Ciel are you alright?”

She could hear low moans accompanied by faint sighs, the sound of skin on skin contact and…was the wall  _shaking?_

“Ciel!” Panic overwhelms her. Was there an earthquake happening? Did Ciel know? Oh god, what if he was trapped inside the backroom?! “Ciel, don’t worry—let me find Sebastian and—“

“ _Oh, god—_ yes, right _there!_ ”

Lizzy’s eyes widen. Was that…?

“ _Fuck,_ you feel so good.”

Was that _Sebastian’s_ voice?!

“Um—“

“Just—ah, stay inside me,” now that was _definitely_ Ciel—even if his voice _was_ breathless and strangely erotic, “just stay inside me and don’t move.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” She hears a muffled voice answer followed by the sound of sighs and kisses. “Perfect fit.”

For a second, Lizzy considers leaving because Ciel was obviously having sex with _someone_ in there but—as Uncle William would continue to admonish—she’d always been too curious for her own good. Before her conscious can intervene, Lizzy steals a hairpin from her hair, allowing the golden curls to cascade down her back. With a flick of the wrist, the heavy backdoor opens and— 

“Oh my word!” Lizzy’s hand flies up to cover her mouth when she sees a very naked Ciel and Sebastian standing in front of her. Ciel’s legs are wrapped around Sebastian’s hips, his back pressed agains the wall while the older man's hands are cupping Ciel’s ass, hoisting him up because her cousin looks half ready to faint from pleasure. “Ohhh my god, I’m so sorry!” Lizzy squeaks nearly tripping over her own two feet as she scrambled to close the door and head far, _far_ away. (How did she not sense it before? The whole place _reeked_ of sex!) 

“No need,” Sebastian called out behind her, right before Lizzy closed the door. “We’re just about done here.” He paused. “Do you want to—“

“No thank you!” Lizzy's cheeks burned. 

 

Running up the stairs, Lizzy was flush with embarrassment and excitement because—she was right after all!

_Love cannot be contrived or forced. It must be natural and innate. Your powers can help cultivate the love that is already there but not even magic is able to create love out of nothing._

Oh she was _so_ right. Thinking back to Ciel’s dismissive behavior and overtly callous manners, Lizzy couldn’t help but smile. He was only ever that way with people he genuinely liked and my, my—he _definitely_ liked Sebastian. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- I picture 1960s Lizzy to look a lot like Sharon Tate. (And Grell looks like Jeffree Star.) 
> 
> \- The painted Victorian townhouse = one of the painted ladies in SF. 
> 
> A/N: I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while now so...here it is! It's a really random one-shot that was written just for fun so don't take it too seriously XD
> 
> Reviews welcome :)


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